


Dalya

by blackdragonhellfire



Series: Titanium [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Also don't forget how Slade is technically a pedo, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Women, Choking, Creepy Ra's al Ghul, Cute, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Dalya Wayne, Damian Wayne-centric, Dark subject matter, Dogs, Fem!Robins, Female Damian Wayne, Female Dick Grayson, Female Robins, Female Tim Drake, Food, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, I said technically a pedo? I meant actually one, Islam, Islamic References, Judas Contract anyone?, Look guys I tried to make this as wholesome as I could, Muslim Damian Wayne, Other, Pedophilia, Rule 63, Sexism, Sexualization Of A Minor, Slade Wilson is a Creep, Women Being Awesome, despite the arranged marriage thing, fem!Damian Wayne, gross old men being gross, nothing gross happens, underage marriage, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24256648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackdragonhellfire/pseuds/blackdragonhellfire
Summary: Dalya al Ghul has her life turned upside down when she learns of her grandfather's plans for her.So, she goes to her estranged father for help.
Relationships: (only implied! Nothing actually happens. It's an arranged marriage), Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne & Slade Wilson, Damian Wayne/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne
Series: Titanium [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746970
Comments: 11
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have not seen any other stories with Fem!Damian Wayne besides my own, so here we go! I hope I did okay!

Dalya al Ghul was raised to be clever. 

She knew better than to take a direct approach when facing someone. To fight them straight on. Doing so would only show weakness to her enemies, and to herself alike.

 _Make sure to show no weakness,_ her mother had coached her, early on. _Weakness is only affordable to those with more power than you. And here, we women have none. Only the power we can exploit over others._

So Dalya studied the Quran as best as she could, to make sure she still had some principle. So she didn’t end up as one of her grandfather’s brutes. She was a woman. She was supposed to be better than that. 

She found that women were always held to higher standards. They were supposed to be graceful when men were brutish. Quiet when men were loud. Cowardly when men were brave. Weak when men were strong. 

She hated it. 

Dalya al Ghul was supposed to be raised to follow these rules. But, she chafed at the feeling of restrictions. 

She knew better than to show it, however. So her mother had taught her to rebel quietly. To use her wiles to get what she wanted. To be strong in silent ways. 

To be clever. 

And then, everything changed.

After all, Ra's al Ghul controlled everything in her life. 

* * *

“Honored Granddaughter,” Ra’s greeted her, as usual, during one of her visits to him. 

She bowed down to him, showing her subservience. 

“Grandfather.”

“It is good to see you.”

Dalya nodded, knowing better than to speak to him. 

“Today is a momentous occasion, Granddaughter. Today...”

Dalya nodded again, silently confused. Today was a normal day. Another normal visit to her grandfather. She would be gone soon, back to training.

What was going on?

“You are to be engaged. Allow me to introduce your new husband.”

Dalya reeled back. 

A tall man stepped out from behind her grandfather, an eyepatch covering the right side of his face. White hair covered his head, neatly trimmed. 

He nodded at her, cooly. 

Dalya sat, frozen in shock. 

_No,_ she thought. This could not be happening. 

She knew that if it was up to her grandfather, she would be married off as soon as possible, and consigned to making him new heirs until he was satisfied. But, at only 12? This was too soon. She had only had her first bleeding, for Allah’s sake!

The Quran recognized marriage as a legal contract between Man and Wife. Her culture required the consent of both to be married.

She knew that she didn’t want to be married to one of her grandfather’s men. 

She had to try to stop it. There was no other way her grandfather would listen to her, would see - 

“Honored Grandfather, you - you need my consent in order to make this a legitimate, legal affair,” she said. “And I will not -”

“Silence, you stupid girl!” her grandfather bellowed. “What you care of this does not matter. What others, or what some stupid book thinks of the validity of this union does not matter. You are to be married to this man, Slade Wilson, in a week. Am I clear?”

Dalya gasped. 

“This man is my new heir. It would do you well to welcome him into our family, and to appeal to his...tastes.”

She looked down at the floor. 

She had thought that her father was the heir to the League of Assassins, for a time. But her mother had told her about his non-killing ways. His new daughters. His exploits. 

She knew better than to mention him to her grandfather. Especially now. 

She had never met the man, but she didn’t really know if she wanted to. He had three other daughters. Why would he want the illegitimate daughter of a woman he didn’t really like? Of a woman who had seduced him without his consent? Even if she was the only daughter of his that was flesh and blood, she knew that the other daughters were really his. 

She was her mother’s. 

And her mother would not stand for this. 

She nodded slowly, but inside, she knew she refused to recognize the unholy union between her and some interloper her grandfather chose. She was too young, and he was… an unknown. But, if he had anything to do with her grandfather, he was likely to be brutish and awful. Just like him. 

She would not marry this man. 

She swore, then and there, on her life, that she would be free from this. 

And she would do anything to keep it that way. 

* * *

“I will not marry you.”

Slade laughed, his cruel mouth lifting at the corners. 

“Ah, such spunk! Such...cheek.”

He pinched her cheek. 

Dalya flinched away from his touch. 

“I always like my women mean. Like your mother. I’d rather have her, personally, but...”

“You are - you are vile!”

Slade smirked cruelly. 

“And you, little girl, are not allowed to speak. Don’t you remember?”

She growled at him. 

“Just remember, that I will rule the League of Assassins, with you by my side. And you… will be mine. Just like everything else.”

She scooted away from him.

He grabbed her arm, and pulled her back to his side.

“Nuh uh uh, _ya helo._ ”

She snarled.

“How dare you call me that!”

Slade slapped her, right across the face, leaving a mark. 

“It would be less painful for you if you didn’t speak.”

She snarled at him again, and spat at him, blood and saliva hitting his cheek. 

“You are a spunky one, aren’t you?”

He smirked.

“Ah, just like the others. Maybe I’ll tell you about them, one day.”

He sighed. 

She smirked.

“Maybe there was a reason they all left, you _ibn ig-gazma_ ,” she said. 

Slade grabbed her throat, and squeezed, and squeezed…

She couldn’t breathe. 

_She couldn’t breathe!_

Slade looked her in the eyes, a deadly glare dancing across his features. 

“Remember, little girl. I will not put up with that type of talk. Understood?”

She refused to nod. 

He squeezed harder. 

“ _Understood?”_

She relented, and nodded. 

He released her, and she fell in a heap onto the floor. 

“Good.”

He left the room, and shut the door behind him. 

* * *

“Dalya. _Habibi_. Listen.”

Her mother put both hands on her face, and made her look her in the eyes. 

Dalya stayed still. 

“You must marry him.”

Dalya shook her head. 

“Mother,” she said softly, “How-how can you? How can you stand for this?”

“It’s what we have to do, _habibi_.”

Dalya kept shaking her head. 

Talia gripped her harder, and kneeled down more. 

“No. Listen. Men will always try to control us, _habibi_. Which is why we must overcome. We must be strong.”

“Which is why I should leave, mother. Find help. Maybe even go to Father - ”

Talia shook her head. 

“Not this time.”

“Why?”

“My father’s patience will not last too much longer, Dalya. You must marry this man, or you seek death.”

“Death is better than being chained to that man!”

Talia shook her head again. 

“Do you really think that?”

Dalya nodded. 

Talia stood. 

“Then I’m afraid I cannot help you anymore. I will do what I must, and I am sure that you will come to the same conclusion. One day.”

Dalya looked at the ground, trying valiantly to stymy the tears coming from her eyes. 

Talia just left her daughter alone, with her tears. 

* * *

She had to leave. 

She couldn’t stay, and have _that man_ dictate her life for whatever would be left of it. She would either live with dignity, or die with it. 

But, where would she go?

She couldn’t go just anywhere. A twelve year old girl, just wandering around on her own, would be suspicious enough. She had to go somewhere she could be camouflaged. 

Her father had three other daughters. She would be camouflaged here, blending in as just another daughter. But, as soon as she was found, she would be dragged back, or killed, and the rest of her father’s people would be taken with her. 

Was it worth it? Was it worth interrupting his life, and dragging herself into it? To expect him to take care of her just because they were flesh and blood?

No, she thought, it wasn’t.

But it would have to do.

* * *

Escaping was child’s play. She had been trained to be the best, after all. 

But, even then, it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. 

“Hold on,” one of the assassins said, “What’s Deathstroke’s girl doing out?” 

“Let. Me. Go!” Dalya yelled, struggling against the man’s hold. 

The man just gripped tighter. 

“Well,” the other man said, in a mocking tone, “We should just take you back to your new fiancé. I’m sure he misses your company.”

Dalya leaned forward, and gained enough room to kick her captor straight in the groin. 

“Agh!” the man yelled. 

Dalya straightened up, and grabbed her scimitar from her hip, brandishing it in front of her. 

She gestured at them with a “come and get me” motion.

The men drew their own swords, and charged. 

Dalya ducked underneath the first man’s sword, before ducking the second’s. While the man was occupied with swinging his sword farther down, she took action and stabbed him in the gut. 

She pulled out her knife for extra leverage against her opponents. With its forward curved blade, versus the backward bent one of her scimitar, she had extra bite, and extra ways to tear into these men for daring to attack her. 

Perfect. 

She pulled her sword out of the man’s gut, while dodging his compatriot’s blow with a swipe of her blade. 

The man who had been stabbed fell over, clutching his wounded stomach. 

She stabbed at the other man with her sword, but, unlike his comrade, he managed to block it with his sword. But, this ws to Dalya’s advantage, as she ducked down while he blocked, and quickly slashed at the other man’s ankles before he could move, making sure to tear in deep with her knife. 

She ran off, blades at her side. 

The other man tried to run after her, but only made it so far before the wounds got to him. 

Dalya smirked, and ran off into the night, leaving nothing in her wake besides the assassins and the wind. 

* * *

Gotham City. 

Dalya stood by the bus that had taken her here from New York City, weapons in a bag across her back. She knew better than to advertise the presence of a sword in the west.

She was here. The Bat’s home turf. 

She looked out to the street. 

It was gloomy there. Foggy. Polluted. Nothing like the flat desert plains of Eth’alth’eban. One of the many things she missed about her homeland already was the clean air, the rare desert flowers, the sandstone buildings...

But it wasn’t her home anymore.

And it probably would never be again. 

* * *

She stood in front of the manor, unsure of how to feel. 

On one hand, this was her father. The legendary Bat. She was finally going to meet him! But, on the other hand, he disliked killers, and disliked her mother even more. She had seen videos of their encounters.

But he was her only chance. The only way to get out of this nightmare. 

She kept standing by the gate, finger hovering over the doorbell. 

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. 

She was Dalya al Ghul, part of the legendary al Ghul family. She was an expert in multiple forms of martial arts, and knew how to manipulate most anyone. This was nothing for her. 

She rang the bell. 

“Hello,” a pleasant British voice responded, through the gate speaker. “Who is this?”

She took another breath, and straightened up. 

“You may want to speak soon, miss." the voice interrupted, "I’m afraid we don’t take many guests here, especially ones we do not know.”

“I’m Talia’s daughter,” she finally said. “I’m Talia’s daughter, and I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
>  _ya helo_ : beautiful  
>  _ibn ig gazma_ : Son of a shoe  
>  _habibi_ : like sweetheart, a pet name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food is important. 
> 
> That is all I have to say.

Bruce knew something was wrong as soon as the alarm at the gate rang. 

Alfred turned away from the shelves he was dusting, looking alarmed. 

“We aren’t expecting any guests today, Master Bruce. Do you want me to find out what is going on?”

Bruce nodded, and turned towards the living room, staring at the shelves. Thinking. 

Would this guest pose a security threat? Were they secretly an assassin, or a spy? He knew that there were many organizations that would love to take a crack at the Bat’s security, but that implied that they knew who they were. They were too careful for that. 

He had no doubt that he would be able to contain whatever it was. His daughters were tenacious, even at the worst of times. They would be able to handle it. 

But he never would have expected what Alfred said to him next. 

“She’s Talia’s daughter, sir. And she says she needs our help. Should we trust her?”

Bruce looked out the window. 

A short girl glared past the gate, her black hair in a severe bob. He could see that sneer on her face from this far away, a sneer that spoke of Talia. Of how she would rather be anywhere else than here, asking for help. 

Or, at least, she appeared that way. Talia was good at concealing her emotions, and Bruce was sure her daughter was the same way, if she had been raised by her. 

Bruce nodded at Alfred. 

“Let her in.”

* * *

“So,” he started, “Your name is Dalya.”

Alfred just went back to dusting the shelves, but he kept a clerical eye on what was happening around him, as always. 

The girl straightened.

“Yes,” she responded, a musical lilt to her voice, “Dalya al Ghul.”

“Talia’s daughter.”

She nodded. 

Bruce cocked his head. 

“I didn’t know she had a daughter.”

“I was a well kept secret.”

Bruce nodded. 

“Understandable. Your mother has many enemies.”

“She does.”

Bruce looked at her.

“So, what do you need?”

Dalya took a deep breath. 

“My Grandfather, Ra’s al Ghul, has decided to engage me to a man known as Deathstroke the Terminator.”

“Deathstroke?”

“Yes.”

“And how old are you?”

She looked down at her feet.

“Twelve,” she said quietly. 

“Twelve,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

She was about the age he guessed she was. But, her eyes looked far, far too old for her face. Like she had been through far too much. What had her mother put her through?

Bruce thought it was a bit funny that his fatherly instinct was acting up so fast. She wasn’t his. She was none of his business. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help her. No one deserved to have the freedom stripped away from them in such a barbaric fashion. 

“Why would Ra’s al Ghul marry you off so young?”

Dalya sighed. 

“My mother, since she has had me, has become...defective stock. Grandfather plans to make this man the new leader of the League.”

“That’s news to me.”

“I suppose it would be,” she continued. “I believe that he has sicced me upon him in order to create heirs from proper, pure stock. No more, no less.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. I came to you because you were my mother’s… lover for a time. And for other reasons, which I’m sure you can guess. You are the World’s Greatest Detective, according to the League.”

What other reasons?

Oh. 

_Oh._

“Master Bruce,” Alfred interrupted, “You don’t think she’s saying -”

Bruce nodded. 

“Come with me,” he said to Dalya. “Let’s get a DNA test. Just to make sure.”

* * *

Thea Drake was just sitting in the Batcomputer’s Chair, drinking some coffee, and messaging her friends in the Titans when Bruce came down, followed by a little girl. A little girl she had seen pictures of in servers owned by the League of Assassins, no less. Someone who was most definitely dangerous to them. 

Thea kept a cautious eye on her. 

“Who’s this?” Thea asked casually. She had never gotten a name on this girl, after all. All she knew is that she lived in the League compound, and was deadly. 

“Dalya Al Ghul. She’s staying for now.”

“Oh,” Thea nodded. “Nice to meet you,”

Dalya nodded back. 

“Timothea Drake,” she said. “I’ve heard of you. My grandfather likes you.”

 _Grandfather?_ She must be Talia’s then. But...

“Uh… yeah,” she replied, “I guess. So…”

“What did you do to make him like you? Did you have to bed him?”

“Dalya,” Bruce interrupted sternly, “Enough.”

“No, Bruce,” Thea replied, “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

Thea took a deep breath. 

“Wow,” she replied. “That’s harsh. He can’t like me because I’m smart?”

“That’s not his way. He only likes women who can give him something.”

Thea nodded. 

“Good point. Well, it was nice to meet you.”

Dalya scoffed at her, like she was less than scum on her boot. 

Thea just went back to drinking her coffee. 

* * *

“She’s your _what_?” Thea started. 

“Thea.”

Thea cleared her throat. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Why else would she go here for a favor?”

“Her mother?”

Thea shook her head. 

“No. The Al Ghuls tend to stick to themselves unless given a reason. Even if they do get help, there’s other people to go to. Loyalists. Unless she has a direct connection with you, then she wouldn’t have come.”

Bruce nodded.

“Good deduction.”

“Did you DNA test her?”

“Yes, while we were in the Cave, and you were upstairs getting coffee. Positive.”

Thea let out a breath. 

“Wow.”

Bruce nodded. 

“She’s staying here. For however long until her troubles go away.”

“What troubles?”

“Arranged marriage troubles.”

“Oh. Wait, what? I’m surprised Talia would support that.”

“Talia is a surprising woman, at the best of times. Maybe she feels strong armed by her father. Or maybe Dalya was threatened. Who knows. What we do know is that right now, she isn’t our ally.”

Thea nodded. 

“True.”

She yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

“Well,” she said, “I’m going to go upstairs. Get some more coffee.”

“No,” Bruce said, sternly. “You should sleep. You look like you need some.”

Thea rolled her eyes. 

“Ugh, fine. I’ll sleep. Just give me a minute to change out of this suit...”

Bruce just shook his head fondly at her antics, and left it at that.

* * *

Dalya didn’t know what to do about her situation any more than she was sure her father did, but what she did know was that the house was quiet. 

She was used to the constant noise and hubbub of the League’s compound. The sound of swords clashing at dawn. The crunching of sand as she took early hikes up the nearby mountains to train. The wind in the gardens. The rhythmic sound of sharpening swords. Not… whatever this was. The opulence of wasted space. 

She hated it. 

But that didn’t mean she wished to fill the space with the chatter of her father’s other children. Or even her father himself. She would rather be alone than with any of them. She wasn’t there to socialize, after all. This just happened to be the most convenient hiding space she had. 

The sun wasn’t even up yet, and Dalya knew that she would be alone, due to her so-called family’s nocturnal schedule. So, she would be able to have her breakfast in peace, and then go upstairs and sharpen her sword. And maybe get started on some _Mahshy_ when Pennyworth was out of the kitchen again. She missed the food at Eth’alth’eban. No one here knew how to make a decent salad. 

But, her wishes were interrupted. 

“Oh,” a voice said. “Who are you?”

Dalya whipped around. 

A woman stood there, her black hair cropped into a pixie cut, blue eyes sparkling. 

Dalya glared at her. She had seen pictures of this woman before. This was her father’s eldest daughter. The first Robin. 

“Rachel Grayson,” she said. “How crass, as usual.”

Rachel just smiled, despite the comment. 

“So, you’re the new kid, huh?”

Dalya nodded. 

“Cool! I’m Dixie! It’s great to finally meet you.”

Dalya scowled. She knew that this woman was going to grate on her nerves, just from this encounter. 

“Leave me alone.”

“Uh… okay. Just let me know if you want to talk though, alright?” 

Dalya just turned and went up the stairs. She could always get breakfast later. 

“Wait!” Rachel yelled. 

Dalya turned around. 

“You want some breakfast? You seem pretty hungry.”

Dalya tutted, and continued her way back to her room. 

* * *

The kitchen was empty again. 

Dalya stood bare-footed on the cold tile, looking through the cabinets. Everything needed for _Mahshy_ was there. Arborio Rice. Onions. Tomatoes. Parsley. 

Everything except for the Grape Leaves to stuff.

That was fine, Dalya surmised. She had been brought up to deal with change. She would just eat the filling with some squash, as _Poludoods_ , a casserole. 

She got to work, frying the onions. Mincing the garlic. Dicing the tomatoes and squash, just as she had done when she was little, with her mother’s hand over her own. She had always used to cook with her mother, just the two of them, after a long day of training and learning. 

Dalya wondered now, about how much of that had just been to teach her to be an obedient wife? Was it her mother bonding with her at all? Or just a ruse? A means to an end?

Bittersweet tears filled her eyes at the memory, but she just convinced herself that it was the onion. 

She wiped her eyes, and carried on. No one cared about her tears. 

The tomato paste was stirred in, the water was added, and the vegetables were set to boil for a while longer, so Dalya went upstairs, grabbed her sword, and went about her katas in the spacious kitchen. 

A swing of her sword. A feint. A quick pause in her kata to check on her vegetables, and maybe add the spices and the rice. Maybe a little extra tomato paste. Another feint. A block. Another stir. A quick pause to watch the sun rise.

And so it went on for half an hour or so. 

Until she was interrupted. 

“Whatcha doin’?” a cheery voice interrupted her musing. 

Dalya pointed the sword at the intruder. 

Rachel Grayson stood in the kitchen, a cheery smile on her face. 

“Whatever you’re making smells awesome, by the way. What are you making?”

“None of your business.”

Rachel nodded, the smile never once leaving. 

“Can I try some, when it’s done?”

Dalya faltered. 

Her mother had taught her that food was for sharing with others. And, despite as much as she wanted to ignore the other people in the Wayne household, she knew better than to question most of her mother’s teachings. 

She nodded, and put her sword down. 

“It’s done now,” she said awkwardly. 

Rachel nodded, and walked towards the pot.

Dalya grabbed two bowls from the requisite cabinet, and got to work serving. 

She handed a bowl to Rachel, but not before squeezing some lemon overtop. 

Rachel stared down into it. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s called _Poludoods_ ,” Dalya replied softly, reverently. 

Rachel nodded, and raised her fork, ready to dig in. 

Dalya took her bowl, recited her grace quietly, and dug in. 

Rachel took a bite, and let out a delight-filled groan at the taste. 

“Mm!” she said, smacking her lips, “This is amazing!”

Dalya nodded, dumbfounded. She didn’t think anyone in the house would have liked it, with all of them being used to that dunderhead Pennyworth’s American cuisine. 

“What’s in it,” Rachel asked, “Squash?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t usually like squash, honestly. But this is the best squash I have ever had. Like, whoa.”

Dalya let a small smirk grace her face at the praise. 

“It’s my mother’s recipe.”

Rachel nodded. 

“It’s pretty easy to miss the food you had at home, right?”

Dalya nodded. 

Rachel gave her a small smile. 

“Huh,” she said, cheerily, “Can I have another bowl?”

* * *

“So...” Rachel started, empty bowl in hand, fork dangling from her fingers. “Slade.”

Dalya froze, and looked at her. 

“What about him?”

“You were supposed to marry him, right?”

Dalya nodded, sort of knowing where this was going. 

Rachel gave her a sympathetic look.

“Yeah. I know he really wanted me. He went after one of my teammates like that, back in my Teen Titans days.”

Dalya gave her a look. 

“So,” she spoke up, “He’s always had a...predilection for little girls?”

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s pretty gross. Never liked the guy because of that. Well, that and other reasons.”

“What other ones?”

Rachel sighed. 

“Well, he terrorized my team, forced me to become his apprentice, almost brought the apocalypse with Trigon, and is responsible for his son never being able to speak again, among other things...”

“That man has _children_?” Dalya said, thoroughly disgusted. She was going to be married to a man who already had kids? Kids that were likely older than her?

“Yeah,” Rachel replied, “Three of them. One’s dead, one’s mute, and the other’s pretty messed up, but the ones I know are really nice. I think, when you’re ready, you should meet them. It might help.”

“I want nothing to do with that animal ever again,” Dalya proclaimed. 

Rachel sighed again. 

“Me neither. But, still, just because they’re his kids doesn’t mean they’re him. Do people blame you for what your mom does?”

Dalya stayed silent.

Rachel nodded, and smiled slightly.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, Dalya. I hope we can become friends.”

Dalya didn’t respond.


	3. Chapter 3

_Her scimitar shone bright in the light of the sun._

_Dalya held it in front of her, hands steady, despite the fact that she had been sparring for what felt like eons, now. Far longer than what she would usually do. But, for some reason, she wasn’t tired._

_Her mother swung her sword down, and Dalya blocked easily, shoving the blade aside. Another swing, another block. A feint._

_Her mother backed away, twirling her sword._

_“Very good,_ Habibi. _I applaud your skill.”_

_Dalya nodded, and smiled, looking down at her feet and the desert sand beneath them._

_“Thank you, Mother,” she said, blushing a little from the praise._

_Talia smiled back._

_“Of course, darling. Now, back to sparring, yes?”_

_Dalya raised her sword again, ready to charge._

_Talia lunged again, and Dalya blocked. Which was strange, because Talia never sparred with her. Ever._

_Her mother suddenly morphed, eyes turning bright red, teeth elongating, mouth turning into a gaping maw._

_“You are nothing without the league, Dalya,” she said, voice echoing. “No one. Not even your father can save you.”_

_Talia’s blade pierced Dalya in her lapse of attention._

_Dalya coughed, pain blossoming in her chest._

_“We will find you, Habibi,” Talia said, smiling with a shark’s grin._

_Her face morphed again into an all too familiar visage, with sharp sideburns and a pronounced brow._

_Ra’s al Ghul glared down at her._

_“And you will obey me.”_

_He removed his sword, and everything went to black._

* * *

Dalya woke up with a gasp, clutching her chest.

She couldn’t believe that her own mother would do such a thing. Would stab her like that, betray her…

But, then again, her mother would never spar with her. Or compliment her skills like that. What use was it to dream, when it would never happen in real life? 

Betrayal was a new feeling to associate with her mother, but not a surprising one. Her mother had always placed the loyalty of her father over that of her own daughter, after all. Since when had Talia spent time with her daughter instead of going on yet another mission for her father?

All she wanted was for her mother to love her for her. To just be with her, hold her, tell her she loved her. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently, it was. But she was supposed to put her own personal comfort aside and marry a man she had never met, just because her mother and grandfather said so.

She threw off her covers, and sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the floor. It was only a nightmare, she reminded herself. She had had them before. This was nothing to her. 

Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. 

She made no move to stop them, this time.

* * *

Dalya sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of tea in her hands. The tears had long since dried up, but the feeling of dread had not yet evaporated. 

She still couldn’t sleep, however. No matter how hard she tried. 

She sighed into her tea. 

She was used to being on only a little bit of sleep. Her training required early mornings and late nights, after all. She had trained to be the best.To work at all hours of the day, and the night. Or, maybe it was because she’d spend some of those late nights reading the Quran by candlelight, memorizing new _ayahs_ and prayers. 

Dalya bowed her head, her bangs meeting the edge of the cup. The steam wafted into her face. 

She looked down into the cup, her reflection staring back at her. And just stayed there, bent over her cup, for what seemed like forever. 

Someone sat down next to her. 

Dalya didn’t move. 

The other person sighed. 

“So…” they said, “Nightmares?”

Dalya just kept staring. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you had one, or not. I get that you don’t trust us yet. And that’s fine. I mean, you’re in a new place. I don’t think any of us really trusted Bruce when we first came here. Even me.”

Dalya kept staring into her tea, trying to decide if her watery eyes were a trick of the reflection or real. 

Rachel Grayson put her feet up on the table, and leaned back in her chair.

“You know, what always helps me after a nightmare is just going to the cave and doing a few tricks on the circus rig down there. It reminds me of my parents. Makes me feel like they’re there with me, helping me out.”

Rachel put her feet down, and moved her chair closer to Dalya. 

“Why don’t you do something that reminds you of your mom? That might help.”

Dalya looked up from her tea. 

“What’s in it for you, Grayson? What do you get from comforting me? More appreciation from Father? Is that it?”

“No, not really. I mean, you’re my sister. Sisters help each other out, right?”

Dalya glared at her. 

“You’re not my sister.”

Rachel just smiled again. 

“Well, I think Bruce would beg to differ. He’s not going to let you go too easily, now that you’re here.”

She elbowed Dalya. 

“We’re sisters now. Might as well get used to it, Little D.”

Dalya glared at her, and moved out of her range. She didn’t feel like being touched. 

“Little D?” she repeated, incredulously.

Rachel just smirked. 

“I’m Dixie, you’re Dalya. I’m big, you’re small. It’s simple.”

Dalya just gave her a look. 

“I refuse to be called by that nickname.”

Rachel let out a chuckle. 

“Well, you’re here for a while. Might as well get used to it, right?”

Dalya didn’t bother responding. 

Grayson stood up, and patted her on the back. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m here for you. We all are.”

Dalya nodded. 

Rachel began to walk away from the table. 

“Grayson?” Dalya whispered. 

The footsteps halted. 

“Thanks.”

The footsteps continued, echoing through the kitchen.

* * *

Dalya found comfort in her rhythm, as she swung her sword down on an invisible enemy's head. No matter what her father’s opinion on swords was, she was going to stay in practice. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that the League of Assassins had stopped looking for her. 

Footsteps popped up behind her. 

Dalya turned around. 

Timothea Drake looked back at her.

“So…” Drake started. 

Dalya nodded. 

“What do you want, Drake?” she said. 

“Do I need to want anything?”

Dalya shook her head. 

“Good point,” she conceded. “Why are you watching me?”

“You’ve been trained from a young age to be observant, “ Drake replied, “I’m sure you can figure it out without me, right?”

Dalya frowned. 

Drake wouldn’t be down there just to talk with her. Drake obviously didn’t like her, and didn’t care to socialize. She was there with some sort of express purpose, probably to watch Dalya. To make sure she doesn’t do anything to rash. 

“You’re observing me,” Dalya bit out. 

Drake nodded, flipping a strand of her bun out of her face. 

“I don’t think you know, but the League of Assassins has been moving around this area quite a bit.”

Dalya looked up, alarmed. 

“We both know why they’re here. So, the question is, why are you?”

“It was safest,” Dalya said. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re putting us all at risk by being here,” Drake replied. “You being here means we all get attacked. Why, though? You probably only came here because you don’t know us. You’re fine using us as a cover because you don’t really care if we get hurt.”

Dalya opened her mouth, and closed it. 

She knew that Drake was right. She had only come here because her father would owe her, and give her a place to stay, far away from the eyes of the League. She didn’t expect her so-called sisters to want her there. She was just there to hide, after all. 

“And what of it?” Dalya responded, glaring. 

“Nothing much,” Drake responded. “Just trying to get to know you. You’re technically my sister.”

Dalya scoffed. 

“So you decided to interrogate me.”

Drake shrugged. 

“I guess.”

Dalya nodded. 

“Fair. You’re not as suited to social maneuvering as Grayson is. Yet, you are not totally inept. My grandfather has noted that you tend to rely on others for help when you can.”

Drake sighed. 

“Yeah, well, he’s right. I do rely on other people. The question is, do you? Do you think that you can rely on us?”

Dalya stilled. 

“I’m not foolish enough to believe that.”

Drake shook her head. 

“That’s probably smart. You’ve barely lived here. But, just know that Bruce will probably do just about anything to get you back, now that he knows about you. He feels like he owes you. And Dixie would do the same. She gets attached pretty easily.”

“And you?” Dalya asked, knowing the answer already. 

Drake took a deep breath. 

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Dalya nodded. 

“Fair.”

“Yeah. So…”

Dalya just looked at her. 

“I’ll see you around, Dalya,” Drake said. 

Dalya just turned back to her swordwork. 

* * *

The kitchen was empty, once again. It was Pennyworth’s rare day off, and he was gone, visiting some friends of his. 

Dalya stood in the pristine kitchen, and frowned. 

Everyone else was already eating, content in their own abilities, or lack thereof, in the kitchen. Eating whatever they could find, like scavengers. Even her father had stooped down to that level, eating Pennyworth’s leftovers from the fridge. 

Dalya knew better. 

She went through the pantry, and pulled out the ingredients she needed. The tools she would use. 

Perfect. 

She was stirring the contents of her pot when Grayson walked in. 

“Whatcha making, Little D?”

Dalya frowned at the nickname, but chose to ignore it. She didn’t want to give Rachel Grayson any attention she didn’t deserve.

“Eggplant Stew,” Dalya replied, cordially. 

Grayson made a face. 

“Ugh, I was going to ask if I could have some because it smelled good, but… not anymore.”

She walked back to the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey, guys!” she called out, “Does anyone want some Eggplant Stew?”

“No, thanks!” Drake called back. 

Dalya rolled her eyes. 

Someone stood up, their chair dragging on the floor as they did. 

Footsteps approached. 

Bruce Wayne walked into the kitchen, eyes sharp as he observed the kitchen.

“Actually, Dixie,” he said, “I’ll take some.”

Dixie gave him a look. 

Bruce didn’t move. 

“Talia’s Eggplant Stew was actually pretty good,” he replied. “I wouldn’t mind having some.”

Dalya nodded, and brought out a bowl. 

She plopped a few spoons of the stew into it, and handed the bowl over. 

“Thank you, Dalya,” her father responded. 

Dalya nodded again. 

Grayson pretended to gag in the corner. 

Dalya gave her a look. 

“Must you act more juvenile than you already are, Grayson?”

Grayson looked up. 

“Nah. But, eggplant is gross.”

Dalya rolled her eyes. 

Grayson just smiled. 

Drake stood at the open doorway, hands on her hips. 

“Come on, guys,” she said, “Are you going to come to the table, or just eat here?”

Grayson rolled her eyes. 

“Jeez Thea, we’re coming. Right, Dalya?”

Dalya gave her a look, and followed her out the door.

* * *

Dalya lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Tonight was… not as nice as some with her mother had been, but somewhat pleasurable. Her father had complimented her stew, after trying a bite. 

Her mother rarely ever did that. 

Dalya was used to it. Her mother’s way of showing affection was not new to her. But, some part of her appreciated the change. The fact that her father went out of his way to tell her that she did something good. It was nice. 

She turned over in her bed, snuggling under the covers, away from the light of the windows.

Smiling as she remembered her father’s praise, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Dalya lowered her hand, letting it hover by the sensitive nose of the pitbull in front of her. 

The dog sniffed it gingerly. 

“This is Reba,” The worker said, “She’s been here ever since her previous owners gave her back. We don’t know why, she’s a real sweetheart.”

Dalya didn’t know what to say about that. Some people were just ill-equipped to handle dogs. She, however, knew that no matter how misbehaved a dog was, she could handle them. 

There were plenty of dogs back at Eth’alth’eban. She had helped to take care of a few, but only when they were in need of the nursing. After all, her grandfather didn’t allow anyone in the League to keep them.

So she snuck around him. 

Reba stepped a little closer, tongue lolling, and Dalya cautiously scratched her behind the ears. 

Grayson stepped closer. 

“Aw, what a cutie!” she exclaimed, petting the dog atop her head, fingers getting lost in the short fur.

Dalya scowled at her. 

“Grayson,” she said, “You’re supposed to put your hand under their nose first.”

“Oh,” Grayson responded. “Whoops. I forgot. She’s just so cute!”

Dalya rolled her eyes. 

Grayson put her hand underneath Reba’s nose, and Reba sniffed it. 

Reba looked up at her, smiling. 

Grayson smiled back, and went back to petting her. 

Dalya knelt down by the dog, and began to run her hands up and down her sides. 

Reba just stayed still, tail wagging behind her.

Dalya smiled back at her. 

“Hello, _rohi_ ,” she said, scratching Reba behind the ears again. “How are you?”

Reba just looked up at her, tail wagging. 

Dalya stood up. 

“She likes you,” the worker said, “Would you like to take her on a walk? There’s a park nearby that you two can walk at.”

“That would be nice,” Dalya replied. 

“Well, give me a second and I’ll get you a leash.”

The worker stepped out of the room. 

Grayson looked at her. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Dalya shook her head. 

“I will be fine, Grayson.”

Grayson nodded. 

“Okay, but I worry.”

Dalya gave her a look. 

Grayson stepped back, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Geez, Little D! You don’t have to glare at me like that!”

Dalya just rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms.

The worker stepped back in, leash in hand. 

“Alright! The park is right across the street. Just make sure to come back by five, okay?”

Dalya took the leash. 

“She’ll come back,” Grayson said, “Don’t worry.”

* * *

The sky was blue, the air fresh, and the grass green.

Reba walked in front of Dalya, tongue lolling, as if she was happy to be outside again after such a long time in the shelter. 

Dalya smiled, and tried to lead her over to a grassy patch with just the right amount of shade. 

Reba stayed planted, smelling something on the ground in front of her.

Dalya shook her head. 

“Reba,” she called, “Come.”

Reba trotted over, looking immensely pleased. 

Dalya held up the frisbee that the animal shelter handler had given her. 

“Do you want to play catch?”

Reba perked up, tail wagging excitedly. 

Dalya unclipped her leash. 

Reba ran up to her, and jumped up, trying to snatch the frisbee from her hand. 

“No, Reba,” Dalya chided, gently guiding the dog back down to the ground. “Not yet.” 

Reba stood still, ready for the hunt. 

Dalya geared up for the throw, and threw the frisbee in a high arc. 

Reba ran after it like a bat out of hell, grabbing it out of midair, before trotting over to Dalya with the frisbee in her mouth. 

Dalya patted her head, and then moved to giving her a scratch behind the ears. 

“Good dog.”

Reba wagged her tail. 

“Shall we do it again?”

Reba’s tongue lolled out of her mouth, and her eyes followed the frisbee keenly. 

Dalya stood up, and threw it again. 

Reba, however, didn’t move. 

“Reba?”

Reba looked to a spot behind Dalya, and barked loudly, before starting to growl. 

Dalya looked behind her, her eyes widening when she recognized the man behind her. 

Slade Wilson looked back, his white hair gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Hello, Dalya,” he said, cordially, “Long time no see.”

* * *

Dalya glared at the man in front of her, wishing right then that she had brought her scimitar with her. Or even a knife. Allah knew that she could use one at that moment. 

Slade just smiled, and Dalya prepared for the worst. 

“Why don’t you come here and sit?” Slade asked, beckoning her over to the bench he was sitting on. 

Dalya just kept glaring. 

“Now,” Slade started, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Dalya didn’t move an inch. 

Slade sighed. 

“Oh come on, little girl. Listen to me.”

Dalya stayed silent. She didn’t want this man to gain any advantage on her. 

Slade just smiled cruelly, and pulled a pistol out from an ankle holster. 

“How about this,” he continued, “Come over here and listen to me, or I’m going to blow that dog’s head off with this pistol.”

Reba barked at seeing the weapon, head low, haunches back. 

Dalya leaned over Reba, and tried to soothe her. 

“Shh, Reba, it’s okay. It’s okay. He won’t hurt you.”

Reba kept growling. 

Dalya stood up, slowly, and joined Slade on the bench. 

“That’s a good girl,” Slade said, nodding. “And don’t worry. It’s silenced. No one will hear a thing.”

Dalya glared at him, with all the intensity of a thousand suns. 

Slade kept the weapon leveled at Reba, and Reba kept growling at him. 

Ge just rolled his eyes. 

“My dogs never got mad when I had guns,” he said, “I don’t know what’s up with this one.”

“Maybe she has common sense,” Dalya retorted. 

“And you don’t, little girl. Running away like that was stupid, especially for you.”

Dalya didn’t move. 

Slade moved the gun, slowly, carefully, until it rested underneath her chin. 

Reba launched into the air, aiming at Slade’s leg. 

Slade fired a warning shot at her, and Reba skittered back, whimpering. 

He cocked his gun again, and aimed it back at the dog. 

“So, Dalya,” he started, “You know what you have to do.”

Dalya gave him a scathing look.

“I don’t have to do anything for you.”

Slade laughed.

“Of course you don’t. But, if you do, I won’t shoot your precious dog.”

Dalya paled. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. 

“I would,” he said. “I wouldn’t particularly like it, but I’d do it, and you know it.”

Dalya sat still, knowing that if she made even the smallest of moves without this man’s permission, Reba would be shot. Like a deer in the forest. 

Without mercy.

“And, little girl,” he continued, “Don’t even think about running. Look, over there.”

He pointed to a shadowy figure on a nearby building.

“See there? That’s my friend, ready with a sniper rifle. Ready to shoot your precious pooch if you even think about doing it.”

Dalya began to shake. 

This was a mistake, she thought. She shouldn’t have gone out here without Grayson at her side, able to help defend her. Or, maybe, she should have brought at least one weapon with her. Grayson had told her that she would be fine without one. It was the western world, after all. 

But she was being hunted. 

Damn Grayson for thinking she had a chance. Damn herself for not realizing better, and bringing a weapon anyway.

Dalya looked at her captor, fear in her eyes. 

“Let her go,” she said, “I’ll come with you.”

“Good,” Slade said, standing up and holding out a hand for her. “Good. Shall we?”

Dalya stood up with him.

Arm in arm, they walked away. 

Reba stayed, behind, whimpering, no sign of a companion near her.

* * *

The car was small, black, and relatively innocuous. 

Dalya was pushed into the backseat, Slade getting in behind her. 

She buckled her seatbelt, and gave the man beside her the worst glare she could think of. 

Slade just looked at her, and raised his eyebrow. 

Dalya kept glaring. 

Her captor whipped out his cell phone, and dialed in a number. 

The person on the other end of the line answered.

“Wintergreen,” Slade greeted, “She’s here. Let’s go.”

The man on the other end sounded an affirmative, and then hung up. 

Slade just gave her a look. 

“Isn’t glaring like that going to make your face tired?” he asked. 

Dalya kept glaring. 

Slade rolled his eyes, and glared at her. 

“When we’re married, little girl, that look won’t do anything for you.”

Dalya’s expression didn’t change. 

“You know how this works. In this arrangement, I get what I want. And what I happen to want is far more important than you.”

Slade sighed. 

“Sadly, I need you to get it, so here we are.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Dalya asked, feeling brave. 

Slade slapped her, as hard as he could in the limited space they had. 

Dalya’s head rebounded against the window, leaving a slight crack in it. She could feel her mouth pooling with blood from the force of the hit. 

She knew that this was not a man to be trifled with, even before he had hit her. However, she did note that he was rather easy to rile up. 

She smirked, blood staining her teeth, looking directly at the man beside her. 

Slade glared at her, and then sighed again. 

“You knew better than to do that, my dear.”

Dalya glared at him, trying to resist the urge to tell him that she wasn’t his ‘dear’. But she knew better. 

Slade seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, and smirked. 

A man with a neatly trimmed mustache opened the car door, interrupting their conversation, and settled into the driver’s seat. He started the car quickly and closed the door behind him. 

“Ah, Wintergreen,” Slade said, “Finally. You worried me for a bit.”

Wintergreen sighed, and put the car into reverse. 

“Slade, old friend,” Wintergreen said, glaring at him. “I know how to do my damn job.”

“I know,” Slade replied cheerfully. “Now, let’s get going, shall we?”

* * *

Dixie was beginning to get worried. 

It had been an hour since Dalya had gone out the door, Reba at her side. And, somehow, she hadn’t come back yet, despite promising that she would be back at that time. 

Dalya wasn’t the type to be late. 

She walked up to the front desk, where the volunteer from earlier was sitting, shuffling papers around. 

“My sister isn’t back yet,” she said, “And she’s usually pretty on time. I’m gonna go check on her, if that’s okay?”

“Sure!” The volunteer replied, “Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if she fell in love with Reba. She’s a sweet dog.”

“That’s true,” Dixie replied, “And she really loves dogs. They might just be carried away.”

“Aww,” the volunteer cooed, “That’s so cute. Just make sure that Reba gets back here, okay? It wouldn’t be good if your sister ran off with Reba without paying the adoption fee. ”

Dixie smiled, and ran out the door towards the park.

* * *

Dalya wasn’t there. Dixie had already looked just about everywhere. The playground. The trails. Everything.

And then, she found Reba. 

Reba was sitting on the ground, trembling and whining. Like she had seen something terrible.

Dixie ran over to her, and leaned down. 

“Reba,” she called, “Reba.”

The dog looked up at her. 

“It’s okay, baby. It really is, okay?”

Reba whimpered. 

“It’s okay,” Dixie continued, trying to soothe the dog. “It’s okay.”

Reba snuggled into her, and put her head under Dixie’s arm. 

“It’s okay, alright?”

Reba kept trembling. 

She and Dixie just stayed there, afraid and worried. 

Dixie tried to comfort Reba, but, at the same time, was wondering where Dalya would be.

She wouldn’t just abandon her dog. And she most definitely wouldn’t leave, when Reba was still there. At least, not willingly. 

Someone had to have taken her. There was no other way she would have left. 

Dixie stood up, and brushed off her pants. 

Reba looked up at her, eyes wide and fearful. 

Dixie found the leash from where it was dropped, by the bench, and clipped it to Reba’s collar.

“Alright Reba,” she started, “We need to go, okay? We can’t just stay here.”

Reba stayed where she was. 

Dixie pulled lightly with the leash. 

“We really need to go, Reba.”

Reba didn’t move. 

Dixie sighed, and began walking, pulling lightly at the leash. 

Reba began to move, slowly and morosely. 

“That’s a good girl,” Dixie cooed, petting the dog’s head softly. 

They started to walk.

Reba trailed behind Dixie, slowly but surely, and Dixie led them back towards the shelter, as carefully as she could, making sure not to jostle the already traumatized dog behind her too much. 

Trauma victim 101. Just as she had learned as Robin. 

She pulled out her phone, and dialed Bruce’s number. After all, she would need all the help she could get in making sure her sister was safe and sound. 

He picked up. 

“Bruce,” she started with, “This is Dixie. Dalya’s gone.”

“Did she leave?” he asked brusquely. 

“No,” Dixie said, fearfully, “I think she was kidnapped, Bruce. You need to come here. Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rohi means my soul in Arabic and is a term of endearment. 
> 
> And don't worry, I have an army of pet OCs that Dalya's going to get besides Titus and Alfred the Cat. They'll get there, evantually! Don't worry. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!


End file.
